


Spot of Trouble

by graduating_pitch



Series: in your wet dreams tonight [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Partial Mind Control, Psychic Abilities, Scissoring, Strip Tease, Teasing, Telekinesis, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graduating_pitch/pseuds/graduating_pitch
Summary: Post Thunderbirds 2004 - Tintin dreams of Penelope, and all that she is.
Relationships: Penelope Creighton-Ward/Tin-Tin Kyrano
Series: in your wet dreams tonight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623091
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after re-watching the movie, I dare you to come back and tell me there’s not a reading where you can interpret Lady Penelope as a confident bisexual who has a preference for younger partners.

Tintin lay in her bed, a swirl of emotions. She was joyful and proud, yet frustrated by herself. The sheer revelry of the past few days was put at odds with the discontent which she held in her heart. She had rescued dozens of people on the monorail, why couldn’t that just make her happy? She had become an official member of the Thunderbirds, she had control of her powers. She had everything she wanted, wasn’t that enough?

The truth is, it wasn’t enough. No, Tintin wanted more. Someone, to be more precise. More than anything in this world, the last few days had made her realize it, had made it inescapable. She was completely and unfathomably in love with Lady Penelope. Seeing her around Tracy Island, watching her heroics over the last couple of days, that had resulted in Tintin falling head over heels for the British aristocrat.

She had always had a physical attraction to the woman, that was for sure. How could she not, with the outfits that classily displayed her figure? The dignified, yet sexual allure that defined her every manner. The spy had dedicated her entire life trying to present herself as appealing and trustworthy as possible, how could Tintin be blamed for this? And when they were in the freezer Tintin couldn’t keep her eyes of Lady Penelope’s nipples, poking at first through layers of fabric then merely under the confines of her tight, tight pink shirt. Tintin definitely had trouble looking away from her when she reached to retrieve the underwire of her bra. She had even more trouble concentrating when she heard the low murmur of Lady Penelope’s voice whisper something about not even needing the damn thing.

Of course she didn’t, in Tintin’s mind Lady Penelope’s tits were the most mesmerising thing about her. Perfectly perky, with a mouth-watering size very plainly were larger than her own. Her ass was nothing to ignore either, and the total package was elegant curves that seemed to align perfectly.

It didn’t help that Lady Penelope seemed to be dropping all these hints in from of Tintin, dangling her sexuality in front of the girl until she went insane. Lady Penelope had previously made allusions to her preference for “gorgeous young things,” but Tintin had never really grasped what that fully entailed until Lady Penelope had set her sights on her. Always calling her name out with a smile when they were both in “Paradise.” Letting her know that “girls are always ahead of boys” when it came to romance.

When she held out her hand to Tintin on the Thunderbird 2, what choice did Tintin have but to grasp those slender gloved fingers? When Tintin saw Lady Penelope trapped in that bank safe, how could she not rush to save the lady in need? And how on earth was Tintin supposed to interpret Lady Penelope’s wink at her at dinner as anything but of a sexual nature? As Alan bluntly put, Tintin was a “blossoming” teenaged girl. She had needs. Needs that burned within her.

Without much thought, Tintin’s right hand slowly made its way to the top of the shorts she was wearing. With the snap that shocked her back to her senses, she suddenly became conscious that she was rubbing her pussy lightly through her now dampening panties. And she was doing it thinking about Lady Penelope, her smooth slim body, her sexy low accent, her sensuous mannerisms.

Fuck it, Tintin thought. She was too horny, too needy, too hormonal to do anything but see this to the end. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the fantasy that lay in her mind.

The Lady would be idly reading something by the pool, as she often did. Dressed in that floral sundress that revealed no insignificant amount of cleavage. Tintin would just watch her at first, study her figure for a while, then saunter over, bouncing in such a way that would make her breasts impossible to ignore. The Lady would look up at the sound of her footsteps, and smile.

“Looking for trouble this evening Tintin?”

“Always Lady Penelope.”

They would smirk at each other, and Tintin’s heart would melt. But she wouldn’t falter. She would complete her journey to the Lady’s side, and lean down to bestow a kiss to the British woman’s lips.

It would be chaste at first, lips holding passively together, just enjoying the moment. The Lady’s hands would rise to cup Tintin’s face, and she would use her own to grasp either side of the Lady’s torso. Then it would be her to deepen the kiss, pushing the Lady further down the chair with insistence, until the flimsy thing bent backwards at her effort. From that position Tintin would begin to grope the Lady’s chest, finally revelling in the softness of the noble’s breasts.

If only she could be as bold as she was in her dreams. If only she had the courage like she in her lewd fantasy, where currently she was moving her hands to pull the straps down on the Lady’s dress. She opened her mouth to let out a lusty moan, and she imagined that the Lady would take that chance to stick her tongue down Tintins’ throat, fill her with such vigour. The Lady’s dress would have made its way down at this point, bunching at her waist, presenting to Tintin the expanse of soft flesh that was the Lady’s neck, and the lace brassiere that the Lady very evidently did not need.

Tintin would attack the former, nipping at white skin, eliciting vocal pleasure from the British noble. The Lady’s hands would reach out blindly, grabbing the nape of Tintin’s own neck, gripping her necklace. This would only spur the younger girl on further, biting hard enough to leave marks in the morning. In the haze of confusion, Tintin would snap off the Lady’s bra with a single hand, and begin her attack on the Lady’s pink nipples, capturing them between her fingers and feeling the flesh pebble in response.

The Lady would decide that Tintin was wearing all too many clothes for the occasion, and with a sudden energy and deft movement, she would reverse their positions, so Tintin sat reclined on the beach chair and the Lady hovered over her like a predator in all her topless glory. Tintin took a mental snapshot of the woman, breasts hanging low, positively dangerous smile on her lips. They would trade kisses as Tintin first shucked the shirt off, followed by her sportsbra. Not waiting to waste time, the Lady would dive to capture Tintin’s left nipple in her mouth, at the same time slipping her hand into Tintin’s shorts. Sliding from the top, her fingers briefly made contact with Tintin’s clit, resulting in a gasp, before making their first stop at the entrance of Tintin’s vaginal opening.

In her bed, Tintin mirrored the actions best she could, teasing herself with the tips of her fingers on one hand while the other pinched her left nipple to mimic the phantom Penelope’s mouth. She was squirming, ready to cum at the slightest touch, but it almost felt right in a way to deny herself a quick release. It would be perfectly in character for Lady Penelope to do such a thing, and Tintin relished the thought, the line between her imagined Lady and Penelope blurring. It would be no one else but her Lady who could bring her to climax, make her feel the ultimate release that would make Tintin’s love fully realized into carnal flesh.

The Lady would continue to tease, lap up and down Tintin’s body with malicious intent. With one hand still skirting the more taboo of touches, the Lady’s other hand would caress Tintin’s abdomen, brushing her fragile sides. And this would continue until Tintin was groaning, arching her back to try to feel more the Lady’s touch. And the British woman would tut, ask Tintin to behave more like a lady. She would not relent until Tintin begged. And begged and begged.

“Say it again.”

The Lady suddenly stilled her movement, and at that moment the loss of stimulation became all too much for Tintin.

“Please Lady…”

“Please what?”

There was that smile again. The one that spelled damnation for Tintin. Because to see that, to see her Lady pleased, amused, that was something that she would do anything for. Break any rule for.

“Please make me cum!”

“Please make me cum, who?”

She was just torturing Tintin now, and the young girl wanted nothing less.

“Please make me cum Lady Penelope!”

The Lady sudden pressed their lips together for a ferocious kiss. Tintin moaned straight into her lips, into the tongue that dominated her own. The Lady broke the kiss, leaving the spit thread to linger between them for a moment before crawling backwards. She found herself between Tintin’s thighs, and she began to pull at the shorts that lay between her and her prize. Tintin’s legs lifted up practically of their own accord to obey the woman, and soon her smooth cunt was lay bare in front of the British noblewoman.

“Now that’s a good girl.”

The Lady dived into the glistening entrance with her tongue, her hands on either of Tintin’s legs, anchoring herself to eager eat out Tintin’s pussy. Tintin was in bliss, in a white haze she could barely comprehend. She could feel nothing, hear nothing, love nothing but Lady Penelope. Back in reality, she entered herself with two fingers, crying aloud without any regard for who might be listening. She stroked deep, hard, just like she imagined Lady Penelope would do. She had to imagine the expertise that Lady Penelope would have garnered over the years, but she didn’t have to imagine the sunspots that were forming in her vision, the spasms that seemed to spontaneously explode from her muscles.

It was no surprise that Tintin couldn’t last long, outside of the dream world she was using every technique she knew to make the Lady bring her to orgasm as fast as possible. She violently came, with a long keen and powerful shakes reverberating through her whole body. In her dream it was the Lady who kept a firm grip on her thighs, holding her steady while she gripped tightly onto the sides of the beach chair. Instead of finding hard purchase, all she could feel in her hands was bunched sheets, wet from her own sweat and fluids.

The Lady triumphantly crawled back up to Tintin’s lips, and they messily French kissed, the Lady giggling into Tintin’s mouth at the desperate way she tried to consume the woman. Tintin couldn’t help it, she tasted like sex and Tintin’s cum. She pressed deeply into the Lady, seeking flesh and warmth. In reality, she moaned as she explored her own mouth with her fingers, trying to articulate the surface with her tongue.

Tintin lay back, exhausted. The Lady had satisfied her for this one small, impossibly long moment. The mental energy of getting lost in her own dream, and the events that occurred felt like she had just tried to fight her uncle all over again. She really should have had gotten to sleep at that point.

“Down for one last thing?”

Tintin closed her eyes and the Lady was staring straight back at her. It suddenly occurred to her that they were now sitting facing each other, either side of the beach chair, which now lay completely flat. She then became aware that at some point the Lady had removed her dress entirely, leaving her centre bare. Tintin stared, transfixed.

She had a neatly trimmed patch of blonde pubic hair, just above her clit, which peeked just out from underneath its hood. Tintin traced the wetness back to the Lady’s entrance, which stood pink, impossibly soft, and completely hers. She was hypnotised by the sight, and upon noticing this, the Lady spread her legs, revealing the full glory of her cunt to Tintin.

It was just like before. There was absolutely no way she could say no to such a beautiful woman, a woman who held all her dreams before her. She met those lips once again with hers, even as she shuffled closer. Their chests met, their thighs sat together. The Lady was so warm, so tender, Tintin felt like she was melting into the British woman.

The Lady broke the kiss, causing a whine to come from Tintin. But that whine suddenly stopped at rapt attention as the Lady began to thread her thighs in Tintin’s own. Pushing Tintin down by the shoulder, she grabbed the younger girl’s right leg to raise in the air. Making one final movement, she dragged herself on top of Tintin’s pussy, their holes making contact.

Tintin could barely breathe. The feeling was so foreign, yet so enchanting. The wetness of the Lady’s cunt mingled with the dampness of her own. And then the Lady’s hips started moving, and Tintin could barely think. Once again, her hand had to serve as the poor substitute of Penelope’s flower, but the notion of what it was did more than enough for Tintin.

She looked up into the eyes of the goddess before, now moaning helplessly herself. Her breasts heaved with each effort she made. Her eyes were tightly shut, the sheen sweat could be seen on her brow. But even in bliss she remained in control. Guiding both herself and Tintin to a climax, she gyrating her hips with ever increasing ferocity. With unknown force, Tintin ground her hips to meet the Lady. Pushing towards her, reaching out to her. Wanting nothing in her soul but to be with Penelope.

It was in that motion that Tintin felt something snap within her, some power be loosed from deep inside of her. But in the moment honestly she couldn’t care less. All she knew was to thrust forward, rut against the Lady until they both came. Draw her close, closer than anyone had ever been to Tintin. Penelope’s name became like a prayer, a chant for Tintin as she continued. Yes, yes, more, more, Penelope, Penelope, Penel-

“Tintin?”

Tintin’s eyes flared open, her name being called bringing her back crashing back down into reality. She became conscious of the sight that she must have been, humping her own hand. Her arms shot by her side, and she looked to see who had come into her room.

And suspended in the air, clad in pink pyjamas, was Lady Penelope.

Suddenly realizing that she was using her psychic powers, Tintin released Lady Penelope, who landed nimbly with the strangest look on her face. In that moment, Tintin couldn’t tell who was more confused.

“Now young lady, looks like we’ve landed in a spot of trouble, haven’t we?”


	2. Chapter 2

Tintin sat up in her bed, a myriad of emotions cascading in her. Confusion, coming out of her vivid fantasy. Embarrassment, at Lady Penelope finding her like this. Oh god, she must have heard her screaming the British woman’s name. Tintin had caused all of it to happen as well, it must have been her raw need that had dragged Lady Penelope from her bed into Tintin’s room. She didn’t know she was capable of such uses of her power, so there was no small sense at awe of all the possibilities she had at her fingertips.

But most of all, Tintin was still quite strongly turned on. She had cum violently before, was building to another earth shattering orgasm, and now the woman of dreams was standing on the edge of her bed? It led her down to dark places, even as she recalled how her uncle has used his powers. To obtain exactly what he wanted, to bend the wills of all of those around how he saw fit. And what Tintin wanted right now was Lady Penelope, nothing else.

Throughout this mental processing, it appeared to Lady Penelope that Tintin was just staring straight her, practically leering. Lady Penelope was more used to giving that look then receiving, and despite the situation, some unbidden feeling stirred in between her thighs.

“Tintin, tell me wha-“

She was cut off as she watched Tintin’s eyes turn a brilliant yellow, and suddenly all her body began to feel an unfortunately familiar tightness. Like her limbs were locked at the behest of another, and she could feel the walls of her mind give way to another. As Tintin’s eyes changed, the predatory nature of them only seemed to heighten. This was not a young girl who would play timid. This was a animal with only one thing in mind.

“Take of your clothes.”

Lady Penelope’s hands began to unbutton the clasps on her pyjama top, and she honestly didn’t know whether to feel terrified or completely turned on. She had been teasing Tintin for a good while now, but she did it not knowing the girl was capable for this. All the malice of her uncle with all the hormones of a teenage girl. Now that was a frightening combination regardless of who it arose from, what powers they had. And right now Tintin had all the power, all the cards, and soon Lady Penelope discarded both her pieces of her pyjamas. She was now only clad in her plain pink panties and bra, skimpy little things which did nothing to hide her body from sharp eyes.

“Stop.”

Lady Penelope’s arms jerkily returned to her sides, and Tintin arose from her bed, walking around Lady Penelope. Drinking in her figure, taking in all her features. Visceral reality seemed so much more beautiful than Tintin’s fantasies, Penelope trumped the Lady in every way. She seemed softer, curvier, and had a glow Tintin could only describe as elegance. She was in every way the perfect woman, and she was completely Tintin’s for the taking.

“Take off your underwear… But take your time.”

Tintin’s smirk would have melted any normal man or woman in this situation. But Lady Penelope was no normal lover. She had spent her entire life preying on creatures like Tintin, both for work and pleasure. The strength of her opponents, her lovers, it mattered not to Penelope’s expertise. She couldn’t break the hold of Tintin’s mental grasp through outpowering her, but there were… Other ways to exhaust the young girl until she would cede control.

With her own smirk, Penelope began to sway to her own silent rhythm. Running her hands down her sides, she arched her back in a way that put her breasts on full display and made Tintin’s eyes bulge. Tintin’s instructions hadn’t been very specific, so Penelope could feel her limbs loosen as Tintin’s mental control over her diminished slightly. She slipped her bra straps from her shoulders, bountiful cleavage threatening to spill over. She cupped her own breasts, biting her lip, and circled her hands back to snap her hooks from her bra.

Returning her hands to the front of her bra to keep it steady, she moved to an awaiting Tintin, who now sat on the edge of her bed, legs hanging over the side. With a turn, Penelope bent over, pushing her ass right towards Tintin’s face. With a wiggle of hips she let go of her bra, flaunting all of her assets at the young girl. She reached over to full touch her toes, feeling the fabric of her panties pull tight against her cunt. From behind, she heard a small gasp from Tintin, and she knew she was on the right track.

Finally turning around the reveal her breasts to the psychic, Lady Penelope made the move to sit on Tintin’s lap. Grabbing her breasts in her hands, she raised them dangerously close to Tintin’s open mouth, even as she grinded her hips against the thigh of the younger girl. The dampness that was growing on her panties traded between them, and Lady Penelope could that this was making the girl very, very flushed. Lifting her thighs, Penelope began to shuffle her panties off, revealing the blonde tuft of pubic hair that resided just above her clit.

Her pussy was just as mesmerising as Tintin had dreamed of, the inviting pink making it impossible for Tintin to tear away her eyes from. And when it made contact with her thigh again, Tintin moaned, far more than what the wet touch should have garnered from her. It was hers for another time tonight, but this time it was for real, Penelope was real, and she was stripping at Tintin’s command.

“Kiss me,” Tintin whispered.

Lady Penelope was honestly unsure whether that was a psychic command or not, either way her lips crashed down on Tintin’s. It was quickly a violent affair, Penelope’s tongue violating the virginal space between Tintin’s lips. Tintin’s own tongue was passive, helpless to the attacks that pushed it every way. Meanwhile, Lady Penelope’s hands were not idle. Pushing at clothing, pulling at Tintin’s necklace, searching for any weak point.

They found their mark over Tintin’s nipples, the girl was especially sensitive there. Neither her shirt nor sports bra seemed to protect Tintin from Penelope’s harsh touch. Penelope did not relent from there on out, pinching hard, even as the girl thrust her tits forward to accommodate the motions. The nipples were well erect at this point, poking through the cotton Their kisses were open mouthed now, Tintin finding it within herself to explore Penelope’s mouth with deep strokes of her tongue.

Penelope broke the kiss to study Tintin’s face. The girl was sweaty with pleasure, smile affixed to her face. But unfortunately for the spy, Tintin’s eyes still remained yellow, slits where human pupils used to be. For the moment, it seemed the young girl was still full of energy, still capable of exerting her will over Lady Penelope. And the loss of contact seemed to spur that on, as Tintin gave her next command.

“Please me Lady Penelope.”

Her tone was steady, but on the edge of bursting into excitement. Even though it was the least specific command she had given that night, it was the one with the greatest intent, the greatest need behind it. Even though Penelope felt practically free of Tintin’s grasp, she knew any motion which now did not comply to the notion of pleasure would result in a crushing headache, and a loss of any control of her body. She would have to play along with the girl for the moment, give in to her demands, and see where that ended her up.

For a moment, she lost herself to a fantasy. It wouldn’t be so bad, to become Tintin’s sexual slave. To give in to pleasure, every action for a young fit mistress like her. She had spent her whole life chasing after younger boys and girls, treasuring each loss of innocence that she bestowed, but perhaps it could all end here. She wouldn’t mind just Tintin for the rest of her life. The girl was curvy, especially at her age, she was smart, perhaps more than anyone else on Tracy Island, and she so desperately wanted Penelope.

With those thoughts swirling in her mind, Penelope began at Tintin’s neck, determined to pleasure the girl from head to toe. She raked her teeth across the service, peppering kisses in between. Moving lower, she kissed the tops of Tintin’s breasts until clothing prevented her from going any lower. Breaking away from the younger girl’s skin, she quickly grabbed Tintin’s wrists to raise her arms above her head. Sliding her fingers down delicate flesh, Penelope descended to the hem of Tintin’s shirt, whose eyes remained transfixed on Penelope’s work, even as she raised both shirt and bra over her in a single motion.

Tintin’s breasts popped free, and Penelope then returned to her worship of her sensitive nipples. She dipped her head to capture one dark nipple, and used her hand to grope at the other breast, rubbing her palm up and down over the hardened centre. Penelope marvelled at how much Tintin squirmed, it was clear how much Penelope’s touch was affecting her.

Penelope still had a free hand, so she used it slip underneath Tintin’s panties, reaching down to palm Tintin’s pussy. That action clearly had an effect on Tintin, so Penelope decided to grope the area, her slim hand barely encompassing the length of Tintin’s vulva. Penelope then raised her hand slightly, so she could rub at Tintin’s wet clit. There was no purchase found there, so the British spy rapidly moved her hand back and forth.

It was a three pronged assault, and it overwhelmed Tintin’s senses. This far outstripped any fantasy she could conjure, and it was real, it was raw, it was pleasure beyond her. Lady Penelope’s expert hands elicited more joy from her body than she thought possible, but kept her from releasing everything inside of her. All points of contact made Tintin’s focus jagged. She could no longer even concentrate on ensnaring Penelope.

Penelope finally entered Tintin with a single finger, and out came from Tintin a half agonized, half blissful scream. Tintin’s pussy greedily swallowed Penelope’s index finger, and it seemed to suck her further in. She tested the depths, feeling the warmth, the ripples of tension and build. Without much delay she added a second finger, and began to pump of her own accord. She released her oral hold on Tintin’s nipple to dominate the girl’s mouth, and her other hand worked between the two breasts, roughly groping and pulling at the modest flesh.

Tintin was turned on more greatly than she had ever been, and it felt like there was no ceiling to how high Penelope could mount her pleasure. The older woman had even began to grind once more against Tintin’s thigh, another delight to revel in. Stimulated in every area, finally, finally, she began to close in on climax. In a way, she didn’t even want it that badly, she wanted to stay in this way forever, Penelope finding more and more ways to please her.

Alas, Penelope’s fingers found a particularly tender nerve in Tintin’s pussy, and with a shout, a roar, she came, bending fully into the lady’s frame. Bright sunspots clouded her vision, her body fell like it was transcending beyond herself. This was all she wanted, all she needed. The love of her life, giving her exactly what she desired. Her body shook with near supernatural force, and this continued on for quite some time.

Finally, Tintin raised her head from Penelope’s shoulder. Tear streaks marked her cheeks, and a tired smile appeared on her face. Her body was spent, her mental strength evaporated from her orgasm. More importantly to Penelope, Tintin’s eyes now stared at her with brown orbs, and they were beautiful. Raising Tintin’s head with both hands, she brought their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. It didn’t linger long, but it was followed by another. And another. And slowly Penelope raised Tintin back to lucidity.

But now it was her in control, as she guided Tintin to suckle at her breasts like a child. And Penelope revelled in the feeling, relished being in control above all else. Her thoughts of submission were distant now, she owned Tintin, in spite of how her power was beyond Penelope’s. Tintin had lost the conquest before she had fully realized her domination of Penelope, and now it was the older woman’s turn to reap the rewards of owning such a beautiful creature.

“Down for one last thing darling?”

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. How could Tintin not acquiesce to her lover’s demand? She nodded with all the eagerness her tired body could muster. Penelope stood up from Tintin’s lap, pointing down to the younger girl’s shorts. Understanding, Tintin quickly abandoned her shorts on the floor, revealing to Penelope her thoroughly soaked panties. This were quickly discarded on the floor by Tintin, however Penelope soon grabbed them in her hand. Motioning to Tintin to open her mouth, Penelope stuffed the panties into Tintin’s mouth, taking a step to admire her handiwork.

Tintin’s neck and tits were well marked by Penelope’s hands and mouth. Tintin’s near glazed eyes still burned with affection for the British aristocrat. Tintin’s cunt was bare, nothing but smooth skin above her pussy lips. Juice dripped out of the latter, and smell of sweat and sex was nothing but heaven to both girls.

Penelope pushed Tintin back towards the head of the bed, crawling after her with nothing but bad intentions in her eyes. She made out with the sitting girl, overwhelming her mouth, pushing forward on her hands and knees. She idly caressed Tintin’s clit, delighting as her moans buzzed into the British lady’s tongue. She continued her assault, slowly turning the heat of Tintin’s need back on.

Eventually, Penelope made her way back on to her ass, so there were sitting opposite each other. She could practically see Tintin’s realization at the position they were in, she could smell the want from the younger girl. They both shuffled forward, bringing their bodies flush against each, threading their legs into each other at the same time. Their breasts met, amplifying the difference in their size, the colours of their skin. Hands moved to frame figures, committing touch into the memory, trying to bring moans out of the other. Penelope raised Tintin’s right leg, and with last movement, shuffled forward, bringing their pussies together.

Tintin could barely breathe. The situation matched her fantasy exactly, and the feeling was so familiar, yet so foreign. The way their wetness met was not something she could have accurately imagined, but the enchanting way each point of contact caused spiralling tingles all over her was the same. Then Penelope began to move her hips, and Tintin could barely think.

Just as before, she thrust back, pushing their cunts together, but this time for the pleasure of both them, lovers entwined, slick fluids trading, even as their lips met. It was a thoroughly messy affair, but neither had anything on their minds but driving the other to pleasure. The movements of their hips grew more frantic, more furious, as climax came closer and closer.

As if of one moment, both of them lay their bodies back so they could grind deeper against each other, hips rising off the bed to meet in the air. The push and pull, the thrust and return, it rose to peak with their screams, calling each other’s name, as they both came to a thunderous climax at the same time. Pussy juice intertwined, wet friction never ceasing as it built to unbearably pleasant warmth.

They finally came down, Tintin collapsing her back with a sudden fit of giggles. Penelope somehow found it in her to rise, crawl over to Tintin, before collapsing onto of the younger girl. More sweet laughter erupted, between pecks on Tintin’s cheeks, on her lips. The kisses eventually deepened, until they found themselves side by side on Tintin’s bed, barely joined at the lips, as sleep took them both, back into the fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is the reason Penelope dips from Tracy Island on her boat is cause she doesn’t know how to do morning afters.


End file.
